Hollow Men
by SashaLikaMusica
Summary: In the future, every woman must submit to a fertility test and give up all of her eggs to be stored and used in a lab. Santana will do anything she can to avoid the procedure. A young doctor named Dani agrees to help her, and the two begin to fall in love. When the government discovers their plan, the two must flee for their lives in hopes of finding a better world. Dantana.


**A/N: So this fic is going to be completely and one hundred percent different from anything I've ever written before, especially my other Dantana fics. It popped into my head one night under unusual circumstances, and it's stuck with me ever since. It's not like most of my stories, which are long descriptions and contemplation. This is mostly plot and point. So I hope that you enjoy the refresher, and the story itself, because I actually thought this was a pretty cool idea, if I do say so myself. **

**Basic plot summary (it wouldn't all fit): ****In the future, every woman must submit to a generalized fertility test and give up all of her eggs to be stored and used in a lab. Young and self-conscious Santana is called in for the procedure, and her doctor is a young woman named Dani, aged twenty-two. Santana doesn't realize that the procedure will render her infertile and unable to have children. When she finds out, she is so emotionally distraught that Dani's heart is touched. She comes up with a plan to save Santana from the procedure and the two soon fall in love. However, when the government officials find out about their plan, the two are forced to flee for their lives in hopes of finding a better world.**

**There's much more that I want to tell you, but that would be giving it away.**

**Fun fact: I was considering doing this as a Demi/Naya fic; I might even be persuaded to change it if any of you are interested. I'm always willing to write about those two pretty ladies.**

**Disclaimer: I own Glee, and write fanfics about it instead of working on the script and rescuing season six from its impending doom.**

**An important note: all medical tests and procedures in this story are completely made up, except for when I head a chapter off stating specifically that one is not.**

**Word count: 6,600 even. I tried to make it more, but even then, I think that this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I kept almost splitting it into halves, but I continued so that it's like this. I hope it's to your enjoyment. **

**Unbeta'd, so any errors are my own.**

**Comment, please! I could use any feedback you have to offer!**

_"Silence shall not utter curses, but neither shall it transform the world."_

Among the horde of young women crowded into the small chamber between the wide entrance doors and the examination lanes, one particular woman – younger than the rest, with slightly tarnished eyes – was not particularly remarkable in appearance. Like the others, she wore the shabby, commonplace garments of the drab lower communities. The coarse fabric of the dark grey t-shirt hung off her slender shoulders like elephant skin, stiff and unattractively wrinkled by the rain outside. Her pale-washed jeans were short at the ankles and too tight around the thighs, though she was not overweight.

As such, she was granted no special scrutiny by the officials behind the observational glass windows placed above the group. Perhaps, if they had cared to neglect their tedious pastimes of drinking stale coffee and playing strip poker, they would have noticed that she was watching them intently. Or, to be more accurate, she was staring quite fixedly in their direction, though she could not see their faces behind the tinted glass. She was aware of their presence, and the fact that she was potentially being observed had rendered her paranoid to the point where every shuffle of feet behind her sounded like a gunshot. She had no particular reason to fear them, but eye contact had always made her somewhat uneasy.

The young woman drew her short shirtsleeves closer to her body, shivering, as the dull crackle of speakers announced that the examiners were ready for the next round. She wasn't well informed as to the purpose of these medical procedures – none of them were. She had only been told – as had every other young girl once they reached a certain age – that it lay in the future for each of them. It was all part of the general public's single health plan, which was generally effective with its old-fashioned methods. Even so, she found herself cringing to a degree beneath the washed-out florescent lighting. Something about this building didn't feel right, though it was shaped precisely like every other government structure – grey, single-story, and bland.

Static crossed the air again, and she moved forward in line, and then halted abruptly with a jolt upon seeing that she was the next designated subject. Double-checking, she glanced up, craning her neck to see the large screen above their heads. Sure enough, one of the numbers displayed matched the one that had been tagged to her shirt, just above her left breast. Shit.

"No pausing please," a live speaker announced, and the woman flinched. Reprimands were never addressed directly for fear that the individual would become targeted by the predator types in a group. Nonetheless, the chastisement was surely directed at her; she was the only one remaining. All the rest in her section had already disappeared down the narrow lanes.

Glancing around the area nervously, she rubbed viciously at her upper arms to try to instill some heat back into them; it was a bad habit she had picked up several years previously. The skin of her biceps was raw and rough from the action. She ignored the dull pain that the motion prompted, instead focusing on lifting her feet to tread silently down the claustrophobic lane. It had a lower ceiling than she was comfortable with, even for her short stature. Perhaps the white walls were making her more nervous than was completely necessary.

Upon emerging into a tiny room at the end of the tunnel, the young one shook her head slightly to clear her muddled thoughts. At the opposite end of the small chamber, a visual recording informed her to remove her clothing and don the government-issued johnnie that was folded neatly in the locker with her number labeled clearly on its door. Blinking, she realized that the entire far wall of the room was made up of tiny, locked cubbies. She cast a wary glance around, searching for possible prying eyes, before slowly obeying the instructions. So gradually that it was almost painful, she peeled the skin-tight jeans from her long legs. Her shirt followed, and she folded it with such care that it would have been clear to any observer that it was the only one she owned. She wore no undergarments – they were too expensive for what she could afford.

Once she had placed her clothing into the locker, the recording instructed her to place any personal items in as well. She had none, and so she stood shivering slightly with a chill, hugging her arms tightly to her chest as she waited anxiously for further instructions. Her tan skin contrasted oddly with the muted pallor of the baggy gown. After a moment, the directions came, the monotonous voice telling her to proceed to the next chamber to begin the examination process.

She pressed down on the metal door handle in the wall to her left, twitching slightly when the metal sent a light shock through her fingertips. Strangely, the small reaction seemed to unnerve her, and she halted for a moment, frozen. Her chapped lips trembled. The instructions were repeated twice before she was able to move once more.

The next room was as unremarkable in shape and color as the previous two, but an immediate difference was noticed. This space was crammed with a variety of odd-looking white machines that were, for the moment, completely silent. Some were strangely shaped, and nearly all were covered with the hideous, crackly, thin paper that usually accompanied doctors' tables.

With that realization, the young woman paled. Doctors offices had never been comfortable places for her, especially since nearly all of the physicians she had met had been perverted old men who sweet-talked her as they worked, touching her far too much, and leered at her chest while they performed so-called examinations – half of which she was certain had never been a necessity. She had absolutely no desire to undergo such an experience again, especially not while dressed in such a revealing outfit. To be sure, she momentarily considered turning and running out of the room, paying no heed to the consequences – thirty years in prison.

Maybe they would feed her properly in prison.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of handle to the second door in the room turning, and she glanced anxiously in the direction of the entrance, keeping her head bent and her hands clasped in front of her respectfully. It was a position she had learned to assume after her experiences with other doctors; each had required her to stand submissive, eyes cast downwards and shoulders slumped unless otherwise directed. She had been told, too, to hold her silence unless commanded to speak. Perhaps in another life she would have been rebellious and infuriated by such degradation, but she could not argue here, not in this life. Such was the way here.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The young woman – it would be polite, now, to mention that her name was Santana – withheld a wince at the sound of the gravelly man's voice. Here it was again – they were back. She could only hope that this procedure would be gotten over with quickly; then she could return to the safety and clutter of her trashy apartment, where her friends were anxiously waiting.

"Ohhhhh, shy, hmm? I like 'em that way." She tried hard not to gag at his words. She hated that they used such a coaxing tone with her, as if she were a wounded wild animal. Why not just tell her that they were going to take advantage of her? She was used to it, after all – and it wasn't as if they would be having it any other way.

"Figgins! Get the fuck out of my exam room! How many times have I told you not to invade my patients' privacy?" Santana's eyes nearly flickered towards the door at the introduction of this newer, higher voice, but she restrained herself. She would hate to provoke the man's wrath, especially when he seemed disgruntled at the interruption. However, a faint strain of hope rose within her; it was a woman's voice that had joined their group. She had nothing to fear from women.

"Relax, Danielle, darling," the man called Figgins drawled. Santana cringed. "I was only getting acquainted with the young lady in here. And – you refer to them as patients? My dear girl, how many times must I tell you, they're only . . ."

"Brainwashed bits of trash, yes, I know, asshole," the feminine voice spat. "Doesn't mean I have to agree with you; my exam room, my rules, remember? And I'll tell you for the thousandth fucking time, do not call me Danielle darling." Her tone fairly curled with disgust; Santana could almost imagine her hands balling into fists as she spoke. Clearly, this Figgins figure was out of line.

"But Danielle, darling . . ."

"No, that's enough!" the woman cut across sharply. "Get out now, or I'm calling security. Get. Out!" A squeal suggested that Figgins had been delivered a kick in the ass. The sound of heavy feet skittering down a linoleum hallway, followed by the muted thud of a door being shut, informed Santana that she was now alone in the room with the unknown woman who had suddenly saved her. There was a momentary pause. And then . . .

"I'm sorry about that, sweetie," a gentle voice crooned, footsteps crossing the room to stand in front of Santana. The Latina could see the tips of white sneakers and the hems of pale key-lime scrubs directly before her, but did not dare raise her eyes. "That was my stupid coworker, Figgins. Complete asshole. He doesn't know when to shut his mouth, but he wouldn't have done you any harm."

"Yes, he would," Santana murmured quietly, turning her head away. Her chin was caught by small fingertips and turned back to face the doctor. A gentle tap to the bottom of her jaw indicated that she should look up, and she obeyed, slowly raising her eyes to meet her savior's.

"No he wouldn't. Not while I'm in here to keep you girls safe," stated the blonde-haired beauty firmly, restraining a chuckle at Santana's stunned expression and trying to ignore the way that her stomach fluttered vaguely at the sight of deep brown eyes.

Santana stared back, equally affected by eyes of warm honey. Long dark lashes blinked slowly – perhaps slower in her mind than they actually did – and she was suddenly breathless. This woman was absolutely gorgeous, and she looked as though she didn't mind Santana's staring. She, for one, had long since accepted that she would be the subject of scrutiny, but Santana was slightly less confident when it came to such matters. In fact, when she became conscious that she was staring, she ripped her eyes away suddenly, remembering how uncomfortable it made her to be stared at, herself.

"What's your name, sweetie?" the blonde woman inquired easily, recognizing that the young Latina had been made uncomfortable by their intense eye contact. She could barely restrain a chuckle, however, as the taller woman shifted from foot to foot with embarrassment. Santana did not tear her eyes from the floor as she responded.

"You're not supposed to ask my name. I have a number. It's on the shirt in the locker they gave me if you'd like to check." The blonde smiled at her retort.

"No, I don't need to check your number. I know it. I'd like to know your name, though. A woman as pretty as you deserves to be called by their proper name." Though Santana was slightly confused at the hint, she could not deny the way her heart had fluttered with the words. The doctor had called her a woman, and pretty nonetheless. She was not used to being referred to so respectfully, not to mention with such a suggestive tone attached to her title. Was this woman flirting with her?

"It's Santana," she found herself responding in a mumble. The blonde's grin grew broader. This girl was adorable.

"Santana . . .?"

"Lopez," Santana finished stumblingly. She blushed prettily, the light flush darting across her cheeks, coloring them attractively. The blonde bit her lip in satisfaction, watching the brunette for a moment before jerking out of her reverie.

"Pleased to meet you, Santana Lopez. I'm Dani Harper – though, as you may have noticed, that complete asshat Figgins has an ugly habit of referring to me as Danielle darling." Dani let out a quiet giggle that accompanied her eye roll at the words. However, a moment later, she frowned, shaking her head slightly when Santana couldn't see. She needed to get down to business. This was taking too long – her superiors were going to be wondering what the holdup was.

"All right, Santana Lopez," she said briskly, her tone more professional after she cleared her throat. "Let's get this thing over with." Santana's eyes wandered back to her own for a moment before fastening themselves to the floor in apparent disappointment. Dani almost laughed at her lack of subtlety; it was clear that the darker-haired girl was upset at the thought that Dani didn't enjoy her company. "It's not that I don't enjoy the conversation," she amended. "But I do need to get my job done before my bosses come down here asking me what's happened." Santana looked up, her expression slightly brighter with relief, and nodded. Once again, Dani found herself gushing inwardly at the adorableness of this shy, self-conscious beauty in front of her. It wasn't often that her lower-class position garnered such absorbing patients (she refused to refer to them by Figgins's term).

"I'm going to need you to sit up on the table for me please, and untie your gown," she said, patting the paper of the table nearest to them. Santana looked over nervously before obeying, climbing clumsily up onto the exam table. Her feet didn't quite reach the footrest, and Dani realized that the brunette had forgotten to remove her socks.

"Can – can you tell me what you're going to do?" Santana asked anxiously, reaching behind her to untie the top ribbon of the loose johnnie. Dani spun around from where she had been examining a small selection of medical instruments by the tableside.

"You don't know?" Santana shook her head mutely. Dani bit her lip, uncomfortable. It wasn't often that her patients had anything to comment on for the procedure; she mostly assumed that they knew already but didn't have any further questions. She wasn't sure how to explain this, and she was definitely certain that she would prefer not to. "How come?" she asked curiously, the question slightly tinged with apprehension. Santana shrugged.

"They never tell us anything," was her simple response, but Dani could hear the underlying bitterness in her tone. Frowning slightly, she sought to lighten the mood before things got too personal. She wasn't sure she could handle that quite so early on in the day; it was nearly time for her lunch break, but her day would be going on for hours after the sun went down.

"Well, I'm sure they tell you all the important facts," she lied, thinking to herself that this was surely the opposite. "But I can tell you the basics of what I'm going to do. Basically, the government want to conduct generalized fertility tests on every woman in the country, and then control the birth rates by removing their eggs and putting them in storage for controlled laboratory births." She hated the way the words sounded coming so clipped and professional from her mouth, but she despised them even more for the effect they had upon Santana. Her patient bent over without warning, clutching a hand to her mouth, a strangled sound erupting from her throat. Instantaneously, with a movement only a doctor's training or motherhood could provide, Dani was holding a trashcan in front of her. Santana's slender fingers gripped the bin almost desperately, crinkling the blue plastic bag inside, and coughed a few dry heaves into it. Dani waited until she was done to move towards her, rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder and breaking the rule that disallowed physical contact between patients and professionals. She tried to ignore the way her gaze strayed to Santana's hands, dexterous and slim. This was hardly the time for admiration.

Santana raised her face up, eyes watering, to stare sideways at Dani with an expression of absolute pain etched across her features. Her entire left arm clutched at her abdomen, fingertips digging into the soft tissue at the side of her stomach. Her eyes were black holes; Dani could see the void consuming them. Something a little like shock was straining at their corners, beneath her eyelashes.

"What?" she whispered at last, once she had regained the ability to breathe. She was still struggling with it somewhat, as though fighting down the urge to actually vomit. Her voice was strained as though her throat were being constricted by something other than tense muscles. Perhaps tears.

"I'm sorry, Santana . . ." Dani tried sincerely, but Santana cut her off, burying her face into her hands with a whimpered no. Her shoulders trembled, slumped over like a cake heavy with the weight of too much icing. Dani didn't think she had ever seen somebody whose posture indicated such profound grief and desperation. She could feel the pain emitting from the woman in waves.

"No," Santana whimpered, and her words were thick as though with congealed syrup. "No. Quinn promised. She promised she'd make me a mother, after Brittany left . . ." Dani hadn't the faintest inkling who Quinn and Brittany were, but she could hear the emotional attachment Santana held for them in her voice, and knew that they were of significant sentimental value. Her heart clenched. She hated seeing people distraught; crying was even worse. It only brought on an onslaught of pain for the horrible procedures she was forced to conduct every day. She hated to deprive women of the one thing they could call their own in this horrid world, but she knew that she had no choice. It wasn't her decision to make.

"Santana, I am truly sorry, and I wish that I could change things for you, but I can't, and if we wait longer to do this, my bosses are going to come down on both of us for this. Not just me. You'll get in trouble too," Dani spoke urgently. She hated that she was forced to do this to Santana, but her words were the truth. Santana could fare far worse than she in the event of an investigation; perhaps she could even be charged for resistance.

"I don't care if I go to prison," Santana whimpered, curling further into herself at the thought. Her hands were still wrapped around her stomach protectively.

"I care, Santana. You wouldn't survive a day in federal prison. It's filled with horrible people, men who won't hesitate to take advantage of you in every way," Dani said firmly. "Trust me, I have firsthand knowledge on that subject." She didn't speak bitterly; her tone was matter-of-fact. Of course, her own experiences had wounded her – she would not be so naïve as to pretend she had healed – but for some reason, the idea of Santana being subjected to such harsh treatment hurt deeper than her own wretched memories. Her heart twinged at the thought of someone ever hurting this beautiful, shy, fragile woman before her.

"Too late," Santana spat resentfully, though Dani suspected that the tone was less from the remembrance of previous agonies than from the one she was currently enduring. Her blood boiled at the image of a man forcing himself on Santana – no wonder she had seemed so wary of Figgins earlier. But painful though it was, they had to deal with this right now, or they were both going to be in serious trouble. The directors didn't take lags in examinations as lightly as they did their coffee breaks.

"Santana, I'm serious. We need to get moving, now." She realized that she was pushing the issue, but this was important. Neither of them would be in a desirable position in prison – one even less desirable than the one that they were currently being plagued by. If only there was some way to turn in the fertility results first, bide her more time to calm Santana before the actual procedure took place . . .

Wait. Maybe she could work something out there.

"Santana," Dani spoke slightly louder than before, the idea taking form in her brain, and tugged at the Latina woman's shoulder insistently. "Listen to me. I can run the fertility tests first and turn the results in before lunch break. I'll tell them that you were ill, and that that's why it took us so long to get it done, and that we'll have to continue after lunch. Then maybe we can have a few minutes to discuss this." That caught her attention. Santana lifted her head hopefully, cheeks stained thickly with tears, and blinked to clear her blurry eyes.

"You mean you can make it so that I don't have to do this?" she whispered almost inaudibly, as though she believed that any chance of her wish being granted could be taken away if she spoke too loudly. Dani graced her with a long, intent stare.

"I'm not promising anything, but we can talk," she said at last, after a moment's contemplation. She wasn't leading Santana on. Perhaps they could figure some way to worm themselves out of this. As unlikely as it was, she couldn't help but be hopeful for a solution.

Anything besides this.

Santana nodded heavily through her tears, sniffling as she wiped her runny nose on the sleeve of her johnnie thoughtlessly. Dani almost smiled at the movement, but quickly caught herself, and whisked her persona back into professional manner as hastily and flawlessly as possible. Swiftly, she removed the trash can from Santana's lap and set it on the floor, rolling up her sleeves and brushing her hair back from her face, tightening the ponytail she had swept it into earlier.

"All right, I'm going to need you to scoot backwards a little bit on there, all right?" she requested, pulling a stool over and seating herself upon it beside the table. Santana nodded once more, seemingly not trusting herself to speak, and did as she was told. "All right." Dani didn't know why she was saying that phrase so much; it must have been her general anxiety over the situation. Or maybe it was Santana's worried eyes that were causing it. "You're allowed to choose for this whether you want the machine to do it, or my hands," she laid out the options professionally, looking at Santana expectantly for an answer.

"Hands, please." Dani startled slightly. That wasn't the answer she had been anticipating; all of the women she had ever seen had opted for the machine approach. Maybe there really was something unique about Santana.

She recovered from her surprise swiftly, clearing her throat once more as if it could also clear her thoughts.

"Okay." Dani lifted the hem of the gown, squeezing a bit of gel onto the woman's toned stomach. "Let's get this started, then." Santana did not respond, but Dani saw her knuckles tighten on the sides of her johnnie, almost turning white with the force behind her grip. This girl was so nervous; Dani only hoped that she would be able to come up with a solution to this issue. She had known Santana for less than half an hour, and already she was beginning to form some sort of attachment – something that she as a doctor was forbidden to do. But that fact would have to stand; she couldn't control her emotions any more than Santana could control her urge to be a mother. And she wasn't about to start trying in order to comply with some asshole's version of proper.

She'd be damned if she let Santana slip through her grasp without helping her in every way she could – even if it would cost her so much more than a job and a cell in federal prison. There was already a cot in labor camp with her name on it.

Santana let out a hiss as Dani's fingers pressed down firmly at the apex of her thighs. The blonde physician winced in apology, and sent the Latina a kind smile.

"I'm sorry," she apologized softly, reaching for a cotton swab with her free hand. Santana bit her lip with a grimace, but stoically gripped the creases of her gown more tightly. She seemed ready to endure any amount of discomfort, as if increased pain levels could somehow guarantee her a positive outcome. A moment later, however, her expression changed, and she bit her lip hard enough to turn the tender skin purple and white. A tight breath hitched somewhere deep in the recesses of her chest cavity.

Feeling the new tenseness seize the young woman's body, Dani glanced up.

"You okay there?" she questioned in concern, brushing stray wisps of blonde hair back from her eyes with her upper arm. Santana's eyes darted to the side; she seemed for a moment to be somewhat embarrassed. Putting two and two together, Dani abruptly understood, and bit her lip.

"Is it . . . normal to . . . to not . . ."

"Is it normal that your body is reacting in a way that some would call embarrassing?" Dani supplied helpfully, restraining a slight smile. Santana nodded, relieved, but still didn't quite meet her eyes. She was clearly ashamed of the way her body was reacting to the smaller woman's touch. Dani was forced to work slightly harder to hold back her grin. "Yes. It's perfectly natural," she assured her, pretending to be oblivious to the girl's embarrassment. "I'm putting pressure on areas that stimulate that kind of reaction, so no, it's nothing to be ashamed of," she finished softly. Santana only nodded once more, her eyes now focused on the ceiling, but her heavy blush spoke volumes enough for Dani to understand.

A minute later, the blonde withdrew her hand, reaching for a syringe and brushing her thumb across the girl's flat stomach. Santana's body jolted slightly upwards at the sensation.

"This is going to pinch a little," the doctor warned. Almost before Santana could acknowledge the new information, Dani had slipped the needle into the brunette woman's skin and back out again with a small sample of blood. Carefully, she laid the syringe onto a tray. In its place, she took up a small ultrasound probe and fiddled with several knobs on the nearby display screen. As she readied the instrument, she made sure to turn her face away from Santana for a moment, steeling herself. It always pained her more than she let on to do this particular part of the exam – not as much as the later procedure, perhaps, but it still haunted her. She hated watching these women's expressions as their eyes eagerly searched the screen, perhaps not even consciously searching for something, and then to see their faces fall in disappointment. She knew that they weren't even aware of what they were looking for, but it didn't ease the pain of seeing them so upset. More than that, she almost couldn't bear to see the screen itself, dutifully displaying the blank image of an empty womb where a child should have been, and knowing that there was another dream that would never be fulfilled.

Without even realizing the significance behind her motions, Dani brought a hand up to press against her own flat, vacant abdomen, and mused vaguely that should she have been born into a different world, perhaps the situation would have been entirely reversed – a living being displayed upon the screen, and the precise, flawless lines of her own body rounded and softened in a way she had only ever dreamed of experiencing. Heart clenching tightly, she imagined the excited expressions of ecstatic patients; a fluttering kick; the quiet thrum of a young heartbeat echoing through the room.

If only.

After concluding the ultrasound, Dani arranged a large amount of medical supplies along a tray and entered a slew of information into what appeared to be a new type of laptop. Having finished, she straightened up, peeling off her latex gloves and wiping the hair out of her eyes.

"All right," she declared quietly, disconnecting a wire from the laptop. "I've sent in your information, and informed them that I'm going on lunch break. I told them that you had an allergic reaction to the gel, and that we'll continue with the procedure after lunch. You can sit up now," she added, as she noticed Santana her head up nervously in an attempt to make eye contact. The Latina started and pulled the gown back over her knees, pushing up from the table on shaky forearms.

Almost before she noticed she was doing it, Dani extended a hand to steady the girl. The pads of her fingers brushed against the inside of Santana's elbow, whispering across sensitive skin. A small shock ran through both of them, like an electric current. Their heads jerked up; they stared. For a long moment, their gazes held, immobile, as both of their thoughts momentarily ran wild.

Then Dani cleared her throat, and Santana yanked her arm away as though burned.

"We should – we should um, talk now," Dani muttered distractedly, running a hand fretfully through her hair. Santana let out a low sound that was somewhere between a no and a hmm. Her eyes were tense beneath her dark, thick lashes.

It was time to figure this out, but between the tense atmosphere and the heavy topic at hand, Dani was sure it would take more time than they had to spare.

"So . . . how do we do this?" Santana whispered after several moments of heavily weighted silence. Dani hesitated, contemplating. Honestly, and in all likelihood, there probably wasn't a way for Santana to avoid this procedure. Every woman had to endure it sooner or later; they had for such a span of time that no one truly remembered when the practice had begun. Even Dani herself had been forced to undergo it the year previously. It was foolish to think that anyone could possibly elude it.

How could they pull it off? It would require strategic planning, carefully placed trust, and meticulous attention to minute detail. Any flaw could destroy them. And in any case, it was dangerous enough to simply avoid the procedure – what sort of repercussions could they face for the kind of life Santana wanted? A non-laboratorial pregnancy was forbidden, its illegality stated clearly in fine, dark printing in over a thousand textbooks and codes of law. They would face the worst possible punishments imaginable for committing such a crime.

And yet . . . and yet . . .

Well they just couldn't, that was all.

"Santana, I said we could talk. I didn't promise you any sort of solution," Dani reminded the woman sharply, her tone suddenly turning abrupt and professional. Maybe, if she pretended to feel no sort of attachment whatsoever, Santana would give up and let the subject alone. Neither of them could afford to think along these lines.

"But – I thought you said – "

"I said we could talk it over, but honestly Santana, I think that the only thing I'll be able to do for you is calm you down and hold your hand during the procedure. I've thought, and I don't believe that there is any possible way to avoid it." She turned away sharply and began pretending to busy herself with her equipment. Hopefully, if she kept her hands in constant motion, Santana wouldn't be able to see the way that they shook with emotion. If she kept all further thought out of this, if she showed Santana that there could be no further discussion of the subject, then maybe they could let it drop. She would comfort Santana, perform the procedure, and then that would be the end of it. They would both go back to their lives as if none of events of this hectic morning had ever transpired.

Of course, that wasn't true, and somewhere deep down, Dani knew it, but she wasn't exactly in a position to fight with her emotions.

Santana was now attempting to struggle to her feet.

"But you need to help me!" she protested. There were tears springing to the corners of her eyes again. Dani tried her best to ignore the desperation in the Latina's voice, the hitched, cracked timbres of it breaking with every forced word. "Please! I want to be a mother! This isn't right, it isn't fair; it isn't humane!" Dani didn't look up from her hands as she replied coolly, her voice smooth and emotionless.

"Some things in life aren't fair, Miss Lopez. You've just got to learn to live with them." It was the first time she had referred to Santana by her last name, and the detachment that accompanied the use of it stung. Her voice was so cold that she almost unnerved herself. Somehow, her ability to appear deceptively professional didn't make her as proud as she had thought it would.

She could hear Santana move behind her, crinkling the paper of the examination table.

"My whole life hasn't been fair! Nothing I've ever experienced is fair! Why can't I have something nice happen to me for once!" Santana was almost yelling now. Dani flinched at her words, though it was less at the loud volume than at the combined anger and anguish behind the words themselves. She couldn't handle this.

"Miss Lopez, I am terribly sorry, but we must continue with the procedure. I cannot honor your request. However, I will do my best to make you comfortable. If I am watchful, the experience will be painless," she said brusquely, turning around and bustling back over to the exam table. "Please lie back down." Santana stared at her in complete disbelief. She remained motionless. "Miss Lopez, if you will not do as I say, I shall have to force you." She didn't know where this new, harsher tone was coming from; only that she despised it with every fiber of her being, and that it was for that reason that she could not stop. A nasty doctor would not yield.

Santana fell back to the table with a dull thump, like a rag doll. Dani tried hard not to wince at the sound of the dark-haired woman's spine colliding with the cold, paper-covered steel. She almost checked to see if the girl was okay, but restrained herself. She couldn't afford any slipups now.

Dragging her stool back over to the base of the table, she sat down and pulled on a second pair of gloves.

"Hands again?" Santana nodded robotically. Her features wore an emotionless mask, set in thin lines and stoic angles, but her eyes showed her combined shock and disbelief. Dani nearly had to sit on her own hands when she noticed the tears streaming relentlessly down the young woman's cheeks. Santana did not move, allowing the droplets to trickle down into the neck of her johnnie and onto her shoulders, sticking to her skin as they cooled.

Drawing a deep breath, Dani steeled herself for what she was about to have to do. As long as she paid extremely close attention to what she was doing, the procedure wouldn't hurt, but that wasn't what she was worried about. Most patients didn't feel any change afterwards, but most patients were Santana. The blonde knew that this woman would feel broken, and if there was anything she hated in the world, it was seeing a broken human being.

But, regardless, she had a job to do. Silently, Dani reached for another tube of gel, and squeezed some out into her hand, smoothing it tenderly into the soft skin of the other girl's stomach. Wanting desperately to soothe the distraught brunette, she took special care in her motions, allow her thumbs to press gentle circles into rapidly tensing muscles. She massaged the gel in calmingly, hoping that it would comfort the girl.

When something in Santana twitched, however, the muscle fluttering beneath her hands, Dani jerked away as the darker-haired girl had done earlier, shocked. Even with the knowledge firm in her mind that there was no baby, the movement had felt like an infant's kick. It was as if it were a sign of something to come.

She couldn't do this.

Abruptly, she stood up, nearly kicking her stool flat with the force of the movement. Angrily, she stomped over to the wall, and furiously ripped out the cords that connected the machines to her laptop. So rapidly that the movements were almost invisible but for a subtle blur, she typed manically, wiping the hard drive and manually entering data as it came to her head. Then, stalking to and fro, she switched off all communication devices in the room before returning to Santana's side.

"Get up." Santana struggled into a half-sitting position, leaning on her elbows, her eyes confused. She still appeared to be distraught, but bewilderment was slowly overtaking her expression. Her breath came in gulping sobs.

"What are you doing?" she asked, not moving. Dani snapped her fingers impatiently, and tugged at her shoulder when Santana still refused to budge.

"I said get up. We need to get you dressed so that your locker is listed as empty. Then we're going to stay right here, and I'm going to phone my assistant to come speak with us so that he can deal with the major technical issues this is going to bring up." Dani didn't make eye contact as she spoke, pulling alternatingly at the saggy johnnie and bits of Santana's skin.

"What do you mean? I thought you were going to do it, that the ramifications are too dangerous," Santana protested, still not allowing herself to be moved. At last, Dani raised her gaze to the brunette's face, and their eyes locked. A heavy jolt ran through them both, but it was ignored. Dani's eyes were too guilty for Santana to notice anything else.

"I can't do it." There was silence, in which Santana gaped.

"You – what?" Santana spluttered. Their eye contact held.

"The procedure, I can't do it. Not to you. Damned if I know why I don't just go ahead and do it, but you're fucking with my head, and I can't watch you so upset, so god damn it, we're going to figure out some alternative. Now will you move? We're fucked enough as it is," Dani blurted out, yanking persistently at Santana's arm. Santana acquiesced, allowing herself to be guided into a standing position, but she continued to stare at Dani.

She stared as Dani helped her into a chair, as she clothed her and tugged her arms out of the sleeves of the annoying johnnie, and as she spoke hurriedly into a private phone, nails tapping distractedly across her collarbone fitfully. She stared as Dani tidied the room and entered false information into the data system. She stared as she pulled out her ponytail and shook her lengthy blonde hair.

Through the next five angst-filled hours that would pass, Santana would continue to stare at her with her eyes filled with something a little like awe.


End file.
